It was not tragic. It was not comedic. It was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel's lower back and it was so gosh darn sad it was funny.
All month I've been chastising my daughters for throwing (or draping) dripping wet towels and bathing suits all around the Cot-Taj. Worst of all, I've been nagging about wet towels on the bed.
That nagging voice of mine was starting to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard, "Blah blah blah, screeeechhhh!" My husband's continuous comments were about my mothering abilities and teaching my children to do more work so that I could do less work. Thanks, honey, hope you're enjoying your hammock.
Today, as I was getting a room ready for our next round of 8 guests, I discovered layer upon layer of disgusting, moldy sheets, towels and clothing in Birk's bed. Some of the clothing was still folded from the clean laundry pile! It was like princess and the pea, layers that went down to a damp, stinky mattress. Not impressed.
That is another problem with the Taj. If you are tired of a wet bed, don't tell you mom, just go sleep in another bed. Pull the covers up and sneak off.
To the naked eye, the bed was perfectly made with a fluffy comforter. My eyes were gratefully naked for at least a week. I was blissfully thinking at least one room was clean.
When I discovered the layer cake effect evidence that Birk was not in fact "cleaning" her room and "hanging" up her wet suit and towel, I howled like a injured coyote. Birk wasn't even putting her clean clothes away in her drawers. In fact, she was conducting a black mold experiment.
Take a grouchy mommy, hip pain, the impending arrival of 8 guests and you've got a formula that almost made me break down in tears of frustration. Almost, I say, almost.